


The Best Laid Plans

by playout



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, HP: EWE, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playout/pseuds/playout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since when has anything in Harry's life gone according to plan? His birthday is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiverTazSC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverTazSC/gifts).



> This fic has been sitting unfinished for weeks because I don't know how to end it. I decided to just post the first half of the darn thing to light a fire under my butt to finish it. DiverTazSC has been wonderfully patient after supplying the prompt. Thank her if you like it. Blame me if you don't ;)

Harry signed his name with a flourish and floated the report to the top of the stack. The teetering pile was a testament to how hard he had worked to get everything finished before Draco whisked him away for an extended weekend of birthday debauchery. (He already knew what he present was and he was half-hard just thinking about it.) He needed to complete the last bit of paperwork, head home to pack an overnight bag, and then it would be off to the Manor for three days of sexual pampering. He couldn't wait!

What had started half a year ago as a chance encounter in the loo at the Ministry Christmas party (Harry was drunk; Draco, it turned out, had always been always up for it), became occasional friendly chats and semi-regular shagging, then frequent visits (and even more frequent shagging), and before he knew it they were dating.

...Secretly.

Because there hadn't been an official start to their relationship--and least not one he was willing to tell people about--Harry had yet to figure out how to announce it. It had been a long time since the war, but those hurts ran deep. And the people he cared most about had been among those hurt most of all. He honestly didn't know how receptive they would be to the idea, even though Draco was a very different person these days.

He was still pompous, entitled, and pratty, of course, but he was a fair sight less evil. He did a lot of good for the world, in fact, in his post as the Prophet's official Ministry reporter. Go figure, right? Who would have believed five years ago that _Draco Malfoy_ would single-handedly bring about a new era of integrity for the paper while simultaneously exposing governmental corruption and back door dealings?

Which was, Harry'd learned, exactly why he had taken the job. He believed he could affect more positive change in the private sector than within the Ministry itself, and he seemed to be right. There had been a massive round of firings after his latest hard-hitting article and the Ministry was a better place for it...in Harry's unpopular opinion, at any rate. It turns out many folks don't like the boat to be rocked. As far as he was concerned, Draco should sink the whole bloody thing. A complete overhaul would do the country good.

 _Which brings me back to my birthday plans_ , he smirked to himself, picking up the next piece of parchment in his inbox.

On that particular Thursday, at least, the intrepid retorter had done wonders for Harry's productivity.

For once.

...

Some time later, a ginger head peeked through Harry's open office door. "Hey, mate," Ron greeted affably, "Can I tag along when you head home tonight? Hermione thinks she left Rosie's favourite dummy at your place."

Harry flinched. He was in a hurry but he knew intimately the wrath of a toddler who was missing his or her favourite fill-in-the-blank. Teddy once bit him so hard it left a scar because he'd given him the 'wrong' cup. (His teeth were sharper than average.)

He plastered a smile on his face and hoped it didn't look too forced. With any luck, Ron could just accio the thing and be in and out in under five minutes and then Harry would be on his way to Draco's for kinky Slytherin sex (which was the very best kind, he'd recently decided). "Sure thing," he answered breezily. "I've just got a few of these left before I shove off. I'll swing by your office on my way out."

"Brilliant. Thanks."

Ron left with a parting wave and Harry returned to his arrest report, putting quill to parchment.

_The suspect entered Gringott's at 3:57 AM by means of a stolen pass key to the wards, setting off a secondary alarm system without realizing it. She then proceeded through the lobby and into the rear records room, wherein she was apprehended accessing confidential client records in search of her ex-husband's--_

A familiar husky drawl and caress to the back of his neck sent his thoughts scattering. "You work too hard," Draco declared, having slunk silently up behind him like the serpent he was named for. He removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the desk before rolling his chair out to straddle his lap.

"Happy birthday," he purred, leaning in for a kiss. Harry was not reluctant in reciprocating. Draco flicked his wand over his shoulder, shutting and locking the door without looking, and took Harry's mouth in a searing, possessive snog.

Harry only broke away when his burning lungs couldn't be ignored any longer. Panting, he grinned up at the sexy, sexy man looming over him, a loose fall of hair obscuring one grey eye. "My birthday is _tomorrow_ ," he noted (just to be contrary).

Draco smirked. "Yes, but the _celebration_ starts today," he countered, tapping the center of Harry's chest with his index finger. With that, he unfastened the clasp of Harry's uniform and dove in to lick and bite at his sensitive neck.

"I'm not quite finished yet," Harry protested weekly, reclining back in the squeaky chair to give his boyfriend more room. He gripped Draco's narrow waist in both hands and barely resisted grinding against him.

"It's after five," Draco argued, the entitled whine tickling the hairs below Harry's left ear. He sat up with a mischievous glint in his eyes that could only spell trouble. "Someone should write an exposé about the poor, overworked Saviour and his abysmal working conditions," he proposed.

Harry frowned sternly. "Someone' most assuredly should _not_ ," he warned. That was the last thing he needed. The fact Draco had made it that long without writing an article about him was part of the reason they were still together to talk about it. (Fortunately, he was almost as protective of Harry's privacy as Harry himself, guarding it jealously and ensuring that his less-reputable coworkers--Rita Skeeter--no longer harassed Harry with the regularity they once had.)

Draco sniffed. "Suit yourself," he said dismissively. "I have better things to do anyway." He grinned, going for Harry's belt. "Shagging you in the office kinds of things."

Harry caught Draco's wrist, halting his efforts. While he was all for risk-taking and adventure (sexual or otherwise), he firmly believed that the workplace was for _work_ , and Draco knew it, the sly devil. Merlin forbid someone like Kingsley walk in on him in a compromising position. He would never live it down!

"Not here, you bloody tease," he answered gruffly. "Just let me get these things situated, then we can go. I have to swing by my flat first, though."

"We can begin the festivities at your house," Draco suggested agreeably, dismounting Harry so his desk could be packed up. "You have horizontal surfaces. Beds, even."

Harry chuckled, improbably warm and fond. He was a lucky man.

As he set the wards on his office door--with Draco nibbling his ear and whispering the filthiest of promises--he couldn't help feeling like he was forgetting something...

Oh well. The work would still be there when he returned on Monday.

He apparated them both to doorstep of his flat. There was no chance of Draco getting splinched with as tightly as he'd wrapped himself around Harry--he began taking Harry's trousers off before they even got inside.

"What will the neighbors think?" Harry exclaimed, mock scandalized, swatting Draco's hands away (yet again) so he could get the door open and take their foreplay out of the ruddy street.

"That you hit the jackpot in the boyfriend department," was Draco's arch retort. It was delivered with his trademark smirk--the one that always got Harry all hot and bothered--a moment before he fell on him for a furious open-mouthed snog.

He was probably right. Harry fumbled with the door handle, grinning, and struggling to support the both of them.

...

_Meanwhile, back in the Ministry, Ron returned to Harry's office to check in on him and found it darkened and shut tight._

_"'Mione's going to kill me," he muttered, pulling out his wand to cast._

...

With a victorious shout, Harry finally popped the lock. He stumbled heavily through the doorway, pinning Draco to the wall to rut against him. Holding his arms above his head and shoving a thigh between his legs, he sucked a vibrant lovebite into the thin skin of Draco's neck.

In that same moment, all the lights in his living room came on, joined by a chorus of, " **SURPRISE!** "

Amidst the ensuing gasps and swears, streamers and confetti, Ron's patronus dashed through the wall to alert the partygoers--Harry's nearest and dearest all--that he was nowhere to be found and might arrive any minute.

"Not my doing," Draco whispered hastily, disavowing all knowledge of the would-be surprise party.

Ginny took one look at them and burst into tears. Exactly two seconds after that, all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry quickly did up his trousers and extricated himself from Draco, turning to stand protectively in front of him. He kept a modest hand over his rapidly deflating erection. Molly ushered Ginny out of the room, Arthur frowned thoughtfully, and Andromeda covered Teddy's eyes. George shouted. Neville blushed. Dean and Seamus cackled. Luna smiled dreamily (saying something like, 'How nice') and Hermione appointed herself the spokesperson for the group.

Her tone was one of half-apology, half-indictment when she proclaimed, "You said you had plans this weekend. We didn't want to _not_ celebrate your birthday so we thought today would work," moving around Harry's sofa to be closer to him. "I didn't realize your 'plans,'" an accusatory brow was arched at Draco, "began this evening."

Harry's hackles went up. He hadn't done anything wrong...except possibly not telling them about Draco yet. But _he_ , at least, was innocent in all this.

"You didn't ask," he fired back.

Hermione put her fists on her hips, bunching the fabric of her oversized jumper. "I didn't know I had to! Because you didn't inform me you had someone else vying for your time!"

She almost had him with that one. Harry's Gryffindor guilt began to rear its ugly head when, in a triumphant burst of insight, he found the hole in her argument: she wasn't mad _that_ he had company, she was pissed that it was Draco.

"Did you think my other plans were solitary, then?" he retorted smartly.

Hermione faltered. "Well, no," she admitted, "but--"

"Fun as this is," Draco interrupted, pushing his way out from behind Harry, "I think I shall leave you to it."

He went for the door, but Harry stopped him. "No you don't," he warned.

Narcissa was the only other person who knew about their relationship, but that was by Harry's choice, not Draco's. Telling her had been a compromise so Draco could at least have someone to talk to about it. If he'd had his druthers, they would've taken out an ad in the papers by now, but he respected Harry's wishes on the subject.

He steeled himself with an indrawn breath. There was no time like the present.

"Look," he said decisively. "Draco and I are dating."

The announcement was met with another round of shouting and swearing. Everybody spoke at once--

 _It's 'Draco' now, is it?_ Since when?! _Always knew you fancied him._ How **dare** you! _This is gonna be good._ What about Fred!? _When were you going to tell us?_

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed from the doorway, having apparently just arrived. He looked like he was torn between sicking up and punching something.

"Everyone calm **down**!" Arthur ordered from the back of the mob, placing a restraining hand on George's shoulder. It was so seldom that the even-tempered patriarch ever raised his voice the room immediately obeyed.

Harry, for his part, was far from calm, but he remained silent. In the tense moment that followed Teddy squirmed free from Andromeda's grasp and came barreling into him, peppering him with a barrage of questions and comments faster than a speeding Snitch. "Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! It's your birthday! We surprised you! Were you very surprised? Why were you kissing Cousin Draco? There's gonna be cake! With _sprinkles_! Mrs. Weasley made it. Can we eat it before dinner? Grandma said we hafta wait 'til after dinner but it's your birthday so if you say we can eat it first, we should get to eat it first."

Chuckling despite himself, Harry scooped up the colour-changing ball of energy known as his godson and folded him into a tight embrace. "I was very, _very_ surprised," he answered wryly, propping Teddy on his hip, "and I bet that cake is fantastic, but your grandmum is right, we shouldn't spoil our appetites with it. It smells like there's some really good food for dinner." Which was true. If Molly was involved, it was bound to be excellent. "And I was kissing Draco because I like him," he concluded frankly, believing that children could understand a great deal more than they were usually given credit for based on his own experiences with having information withheld 'for his own good.'

Teddy's hair phased between black and platinum as he looked speculatively at the two of them. "You _like_ him, or you _like_ like him?" he asked wisely.

Harry grinned. "I _like_ like him." At his side, Draco made a small noise that could have been anything, really, but he chose to think of it as amusement. Others' reactions were distinctly less positive.

"Ok," Teddy shrugged, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Now hurry up and eat so we can have cake! And do _presents_!"

Harry barked a laugh and kissed his godson square on the forehead, making Teddy grimace exaggeratedly, then giggle like a maniac at his own joke. If only it could be so easy with the rest...

"Come here, Teddy," Andromeda instructed, holding her hand out to him. "The adults need to talk. Let's see if we can help Kreacher in the kitchen."

Teddy eagerly complied--he had a morbid fascination with the ancient house elf--leaving Harry bereft of his comforting presence. Reluctantly, he met the sea of disapproving faces worn by the people he loved most.

Arthur cleared his throat, capturing the attention of all in attendance. "Come, let's sit," he urged with quiet authority. "Please." He unbuttoned his tweed coat, revealing a pale green waistcoat underneath--threadbare and faded with age and pulled tight over his rounded belly--and seated himself near George. Ready to intervene if necessary, Harry thought.

"What is the meaning of this, Harry?" he asked, hurt and disappointment writ clear in his weathered features. He urged his still-tense son into the wingback chair beside him. With few exceptions, everyone had been rooted to their respective spots since the initial _surprise_. They milled about uneasily until, one by one, they followed Arthur's cue.

Ron went to Hermione, unsure whether he should be seeking comfort or offering it. They moved as one to the love seat and whispered, heads bowed together, casting barbed glances in Harry and Draco's direction.

Seamus and Dean took the sofa Arthur occupied, practically bouncing in their excitement. They, too, whispered amongst themselves but with a good deal more snickering. If Harry didn't put a stop to their gossip, half the country would know about the debacle by morning.

Stiffly, Neville took the chair nearest the hearth. He seemed more distressed by the atmosphere in the room than the unexpected revelation. He glanced around fretfully, worrying his lip and wringing his hands.

Luna went gracefully to the ground, assuming a lotus pose. She grinned at the two of them and gave them a thumbs up, tucking her white-blond hair behind one ear as she did so. She wore sequined green pickle earrings with a flouncy pale pink dress and knee-high stripy socks. Bless her queer little heart. At least Harry had one friend in his corner.

Ginny could be heard wailing loudly down the hall. Harry felt wretched. He'd known she still carried a torch for him, but he had no idea it was that bad. He sincerely wished Molly the best in calming her fiery-tempered daughter down. If anyone could do it, it was her. ...Then again, he had no idea where _she_ stood on the matter. Maybe they both were crying.

 _Merlin_ , he thought glumly. _This is a disaster._

Quietly, Draco led him with a light hand on the small of his back to the seats left for them, giving him a reassuring squeeze as they sat. (Who exactly it was mean to reassure was open to debate.)

Arthur frowned gravely and Harry wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He'd take detention with Umbrage over this.

"Now, gentlemen," Arthur said, making eye contact with the both of them, "if you'd like us all to leave, we can. I understand that you weren't...expecting company." A muscle in his jaw jumped when he said that bit and Harry wondered if he was speaking through gritted teeth. "It seems as though you might have more to say, however." With a pointed look at his sons, who were the most likely to dispute the claim, he asserted, "We are ready to listen."

Surprising everyone, Harry included, it was Draco who spoke first, facing down a literal den of lions. "I can assure you all this isn't how we intended to inform you of our relationship," he answered calmly, matching Arthur's tone. Harry nodded emphatically.

"How _were_ you going to tell us?" Ron scoffed. "Notarized letter?"

" _Actually_ ," Harry snapped back, cutting off Draco's chance to reply, "I was thinking something along the lines of adult conversation." Draco nudged his foot surreptitiously and Harry bit his tongue on the next scathing comment. By the chastened expression on Ron's face, Hermione must have done something similar.

Dean leaned forward, brown eyes flashing. "How long have you been...'dating'?" he asked, the word pregnant with suggestion.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco, silently asking if he had an opinion on how the loaded question should be answered. Draco merely inclined his head, giving him the floor.

"Unofficially, since Christmas," Harry replied truthfully (knowing and dreading how poorly that news would be received). He tried to lessen the sting by adding, "But just a couple of months, officially."

" _Three and a half_ ," Draco corrected, pursing his lips at Harry in the way that signified his disapproval. Hermione and Ron looked affronted (but course they did; it sounded like a long time when Draco put it like that!). Which was right bloody fantastic--now _everyone_ was mad at him.

"A good boyfriend knows these things, Harry," Seamus heckled from the peanut gallery.

"Like _you_ would know," Harry retorted, making the dynamic duo dissolve into a smothered fit of giggles.

Neville cleared his throat, leveling a serious gaze at Draco. "If I may, what are your intentions with Harry?" he asked somberly, making Harry feel both warm and anxious. Beside him, Draco tensed. He was pretty sure Neville meant the question neutrally, but Draco wouldn't take it so.

"We should ask Harry his intentions with Draco, as well," Luna interjected in her gentle, singsong way. "Besides wanting to have sex with him, of course."

Harry nearly choked on his tongue.

Of the rest of the individuals in attendance (besides Luna, who continued smiling sweetly), one snarled, three blushed and stammered, and the pair of idiots laughed like hyenas.

Draco wrapped himself in the protection of his most prideful bearing. He didn't do that often anymore, didn't feel the need to; it broke Harry's heart that he needed it now. "I have nothing but the noblest of intentions with Harry," he declared, tone clipped, posture ramrod straight, hands folded tightly in his lap.

Harry thought that his claim wasn't strictly speaking true--especially given their weekend plans--but he wasn't about to say so. He echoed Draco's sentiment and added, "This isn't a fling. In fact, I hope it lasts."

That wasn't something he had said out loud before. He peered sideways at his boyfriend and caught the glimmer of a small, pleased smile before the Malfoy mask fell back into place.

"This is fucking **bullshit**!" George exploded, leaping out of his chair. "That fucking Death Eater is the reason Bill is scarred and Fred is dead!"

Arthur stood before him, surprisingly quick for his age. "Watch your mouth," he censored sharply. "And either sit down or _leave_."

George seethed. Arthur held his ground. Father and son locked eyes for a long, painful minute until the younger spat, "Fine by me!" and stormed out of the house without so much as a backwards glance.

Harry's heart wrenched in his chest; Draco slid his foot until the edges of their shoes were touching, offering his support. Harry wanted to crumple into it but he kept up the brave front for those that remained.

...The number of which dwindled when Ron chased his brother out the door and Dean and Seamus followed (the latter mouthing, "Sorry!" on his way past). Hermione frowned after them but stayed behind to see the conversation trough.

Arthur was visibly shaken by the exchange. He sat heavily in the chair George had just vacated and pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket to dab at his brow. He responded lowly with words carefully chosen and precisely delivered, " _Voldemort_ is the reason. I haven't forgotten that."

Harry nearly gasped. Draco took a quiet, rattling breath. "I appreciate your charity, Mr. Weasley. Your family has suffered more than most because of me and mine." He sniffed once and swallowed loudly; Harry recognized the signs of distress for what they were, though he didn't expect anyone else in the room would. "I have more that I would like to say on that particular topic but I don't believe now is the time."

"No," Arthur murmured. "I don't reckon it is." He turned to Harry and leveled him with a gaze that may as well have been legilimency for all he could resist it.

"Son, why didn't you tell us?"

Harry felt ill.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry wanted to be indignant. Really, he did. But he couldn't seem to muster it in the face of the man who was his closest thing to a father.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Arthur," he pleaded. "I swear."

Arthur sighed heavily. "I know. But intention and outcome are two very different things, lad."

Harry could not but agree. He hadn't meant for any of this.

"I get why you might not tell us while things were still...unofficial," Hermione chimed in (not sounding she 'got it' very much at all), "but how could you not think of us in the three months since then?"

No one could make him feel defensive like Hermione. Particularly when she used that disappointed mum tone.

"Of course I thought about you!" he said exasperatedly. "And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was you would disapprove. And look at that--I was right!"

Hermione's glare could have curdled milk.

"I don't necessarily think it's Malfoy she disapproves of, mate," Neville interjected. "It's the fact you didn't trust us enough to give us a chance. And I can't say as I disagree."

Harry deflated slightly but his mulish pride insisted he fight on. "You're telling me that you're keen on the two of us dating then, are you?" he pressed, directing the jab at Hermione for her smug nod at Neville's claim.

"No," she said decisively. "But you haven't given me any reason to be."

Harry was about to say he didn't need to when Arthur spoke up. "Do you think that perhaps treating your relationship like a dirty secret might...influence the way others perceive it?"

Damn him and his bloody inconvenient insight.

Harry slumped back into the sofa, heartsore and defeated. "I hadn't thought about it that way," he admitted sheepishly. Draco harrumphed, likely owing to the fact he really should have because...well...Draco had been saying something similar for a while.

"I didn't think so." Arthur rubbed his hands together slowly. "The way I see it, you have several apologies to make. For my part, I am sorry to have put you in this uncomfortable position tonight and that I ever gave you the impression there is anything-- _anything_ \--you can't tell me."

Harry's chest constricted painfully with a surge of both guilt and love. "Arthur--" he choked.

"We will speak more later," the eldest Weasley said with finality, rising with difficulty from the chair. He seemed to have aged five years in the span of the conversation. "I am going to take Molly and Ginny home and see if I can't talk some sense into my children." He shook Harry's hand in farewell, adding, "I expect you at family dinner next Sunday." He looked thoughtfully at Draco next. "I don't think it would be advisable to bring a guest then, but perhaps the dinner after that."

"You are most gracious," Draco replied, offering his hand in turn. Arthur shook it stiffly and made his way to the back of the house. A few minutes later, the crack of apparation signaled his departure.

Harry silently wished everyone else would follow suit and leave him and Draco alone to process the horrible evening, but he would never be so lucky.

Or would he--

"I'm going to go check on Ron and the rest," Hermione announced primly, standing and retrieving her heavy patchwork bag from where it slumped against a table leg. She rifled through it, displacing books and loose sheafs of notes in the process, to produce a neatly wrapped gift. "Happy birthday," she said (rather unhappily). She shoved it at him and stomped out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

"I guess I'll be going, as well," Neville spoke after a beat, breaking the awkward tension that threatened.

Luna stood with him. "I'll see you out, Neville. Harry and Draco wanted to be alone anyway. Right boys?" she winked at them. Harry kept himself from groaning, but only just. His most eccentric friend made it up to him when she folded them both into a warm hug. "Don't worry, loves," she murmured between them, "we'll get this sorted."

"Thanks, Luna," Harry answered meaningfully, voice muffled by a fall of cornsilk hair.

"Your optimism is refreshing," Draco said, tone dry, after being released. With the short nod to each, he bid 'Mr. Longbottom' and 'Ms. Lovegood' goodnight.

"Night, Malfoy," Neville replied politely. "Harry."

He then offered his arm to Luna and the two walked out into the warm night together. Luna blew a final kiss over her shoulder (making her pickle earrings sparkle in the light) before shutting the door with an audible click. It seemed unusually loud in the silence that followed.

Harry spared a passing thought over possible romance between them but quickly dismissed it as foolishness. Just because he had found love in the most unlikely place didn't mean anyone else would. Probably.

He and Draco sat quietly for long moments after that. He couldn't decide if he was too overwhelmed to think or if he just had too many ideas in his head to properly focus on any one of them. He absently worried the red and gold wrapping of his gift until the edges began to fray. Eventually, Draco interrupted his musings with an aristocratic sniff and sarcastically delivered, "That went well."

Brat.

"Shut it, you," Harry grumbled, elbowing his smart-mouthed boyfriend in the side.

Draco smirked. "That wasn't what you said last night when I--"

He was cut off by the sound of pots and pans and who-knows-what-else crashing to the ground.

"Merlin, Mordred, and Morgana!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa (causing his unopened package to tumble to the floor). "What _now_?!"

He bolted to the kitchen to uncover the source of the commotion with Draco hot on his heels. The smart money was on a pint-sized werewolf with a penchant for mischief. Ten galleons said they would find him with a stock pot on his head and cake ('with _sprinkles'_ ) in his hands.

Merlin have mercy.


	4. Chapter 4

"Edward Remus Lupin!" Andromeda scolded sternly. From beneath a pile of seemingly everything that had once occupied Harry's lower cupboards, Teddy peeked out.

Harry'd been wrong: the cake wasn't in his godson's hands...it was in his _hair_.

"I was tryna help," Teddy offered meekly.

"Trying to help yourself to some dessert, more like," Harry quipped, inferring that the terror had--not for the first time--used the cupboard shelves as steps to reach the off-limits treat. Said shelves were currently a jumble of splinters and cockeyed boards hanging past the gaping wooden door.

He reached down to pull Teddy out from under the mess and surveyed the damage. He didn't seem any worse for the wear...besides the bright red icing in his spiky hair (which was presently dishwater brown--a sure sign of guilt if ever there was one; he almost never kept the natural colour otherwise).

"We are going home," Andromeda announced, chiding. "But first you will apologize to Harry for ruining his cake, Kreacher for making a mess of the kitchen, and Draco for carrying on in a way most unbecoming."

"'m sorry," Teddy mumbled promptly, eyes downcast. A glob of icing fell out of his fringe and plopped wetly on the back of Harry's hand. It had bits of yellow butter cake--Harry's favourite--and matching yellow sprinkles stuck to it. Too bad that any cake his godson wasn't currently wearing was smeared all over the the kitchen floor. He considered trying to salvage it but Draco would be mortified. And that meant sex would definitely be off the table. No, it was more important to focus on salvaging what he could of the evening, he prudently decided.

Teddy looked at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I didn't mean to ruin your party," he said, lip quivering.

Harry kneeled beside him and pulled him into an embrace. "Accidents happen," he answered easily. "And you didn't ruin my party," (he'd done a bang up job of that one on his own). He squeezed the end of Teddy's pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger. It was so much like Draco's. "I'm not mad at you," he continued gently, "but you must do a better job minding your elders, pup. I've told you not to climb the shelves before and you knew we were waiting until after dinner for cake."

Teddy made a weak sound of protest. "I was just arranging it on the counter," he claimed, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor.

" _Just_?" Draco queried, arching his brow skeptically.

Teddy had the good grace to look sheepish. "Mostly..." he answered.

"Mhm."

"It'll be an early bedtime with no treats for you, Edward," Andromeda informed her grandson, frown severe. "And you'll go straight to the bath when we get home," she added, eying the sticky mess with distaste.

"Yes, grandma," Teddy said obediently, realizing he was out of excuses and treading on thin ice.

Harry wanted to intervene but he knew it wasn't his place. He just hated seeing his godson looking so downtrodden. "Can I pack some food for you, at least?" he asked Andromeda, surveying the veritable feast Molly had prepared. All his favourites were there, arranged buffet-style on the kitchen island, steaming under warming charms or chilled under cooling ones. He stomach rumbled hungrily. It could have been such a nice surprise party, if only he'd known about it ahead of time.

...

He was able to convince Andromeda to take dinner with her, seeing as Molly had cooked for an army and it was just the handful of them left. Kreacher was only too happy to help pack the food after putting the cupboard to rights. (He was almost as fond of Teddy as the boy was of him, though he would never own up to that fact.) A few minutes later, it was just him and Draco again. Finally.

"Some night," he declared inanely, for want of anything better to say, as he flopped onto the sofa beside Draco (who scoffed in response). "How does that expression about 'best laid plans' go?" he asked. It was rhetorical. 

"I'll lay _your_ plans," Draco retorted, as if the entendre were clever, but Harry knew it was just to make him laugh. Draco actually was quite witty when he wanted to be; his humour skillfully disarming.

"You're impossible."

"Impossible not to love," Draco replied, batting his eyelashes coquettishly.

Harry snorted, shaking his head in amused exasperation. "Are you quite finished?"

Draco appraised him speculatively. "Maybe. You are no longer scowling hard enough to ruin your pretty face so I think my work here is done."

"Twat," Harry groused, full of affection.

Draco chuckled, letting his head fall back against the cushion. "You say the sweetest things."

When the last playful bubbles of Harry's laughter floated off into the night, he was left with a hollow feeling of melancholy and bitter regret.

"What next, Boy Wonder?" Draco prompted, forestalling Harry's royal sulk before it had a chance to establish itself. He was quick, that one.

Harry inhaled deeply and held it for a beat. "You heard Arthur," he said, exhaling on a sigh. "I have a number of apologies to make. ...Starting with you." He turned to face Draco fully, offering his hand. Draco laced their fingers without hesitation, listening attentively.

"I'm sorry I ever did anything to make you or anyone else think that I'm ashamed of you," he earnestly began. "I'm not. Far from it. I'm lucky to have you and I know it." An idea that had been taking root for weeks clamored for attention, demanding to be spoken. Harry opened his mouth to do just that--

\--and Draco promptly shut it with the fingers of his free hand.

"Take a moment to think about the next words out of your mouth," he warned. "You have a dangerously Gryffindor-y glint to your eyes and I don't want you saying anything you'll regret in the morning."

Harry grinned, shaking off Draco's fingers (pretending to snap at them when Draco took his sweet time removing them from his face). "You know me so well," he responded snidely (even though it was true). "Maybe _that's_ why I love you."

Draco was still as a statue except for the wild pulse fluttering in the hollow of his throat. Harry wanted to taste it but he waited, a niggle of doubt suggesting he'd made another catastrophic error in judgement at the hunted look in those slate grey eyes.

"I won't regret it in the morning," he insisted (to himself and Draco both). "I want the world to know."

"Stop before you embarrass yourself, you silly man," Draco answered, but his viselike grip on Harry's hand betrayed the flippant jibe.  

Harry rolled onto his knees, facing his stubborn boyfriend fully and straddling his lap. "I already did embarrass myself," he smirked, inches from the aristocratic features he'd come to know and admire. "In front of everyone whose opinion matters to me. And you know what? I'm glad for it. I don't know how long it would have taken me to stop fucking around and do the right bloody thing if it weren't for that."

Draco's expression softened. "You really are a hopeless sap," he replied fondly, releasing Harry's hand to wrap both arms around his neck.

"And that's why _you_ love _me_ ," Harry declared, taking a page out of Draco's Prat Playbook.

A smile pulled at the corners of Draco's mouth. "Maybe," was all he said before pulling him in for a long-overdue snog.

_Happy birthday to me_ , Harry thought gleefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little fic is done except for a brief epilogue to follow. 
> 
> I told you there would be a happy, fluffy ending! XD


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue: Years Later

...

" _Shh!_ " Harry urged amidst a fit of smothered giggles. "If Ron catches us out here he's going to have kittens!"

He could feel Draco's smirk against his neck--kinky bastard got off on the risk of being found. (But Harry, knowing that full well, was the one who'd suggested sneaking off to the garden shed during Rose's birthday party, so he was hardly in a position to judge.)

Draco snaked his hand into his trousers and cupped his prick. "But you're so very sexy, love," he half-whispered at the shell of Harry's ear. There was still enough volume for the rich caress of it to give him shivers. "I can't control myself around you. I need your cock and I need it now."

Harry groaned loudly. The dirty talk always did him in. (Who could resist such naughty words in that pretty, proper accent? Certainly not him.)

His head fell back with an unpleasant bump into some kind of gardening implement. He didn't care. Draco's skillful fingers were wrapped firmly around his shaft and tugging with a purpose. Nothing else mattered.

...Except, perhaps, the angry banging at the shed door.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Ron shouted through the aluminum, sounding none too pleased. "Trousers up! I told you the next time I see that lily-white arse of yours against my will, I'm hexing first, asking questions second. Harry, you and I will be having words later."

Draco swore under his breath. Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry; the sound that came out of him was a strangled combination of the two.

"I assure you there is nothing untoward taking place, Ronald," Draco called innocently (with his hand still very much down Harry's pants). "I simply asked Harry to show me your father's lawn mower because I find the technology intriguing."

Harry could hear Ron's snort even through the door--for some reason, he found it funny when Draco made outlandish excuses. That fact had saved them on more than one occasion.

"I'm sure you asked him to show you _something_ ," Ron retorted archly. "You two are absolutely impossible. Like a couple of randy teenagers, you are! You have two minutes to get back to the party or I'm sending Hermione. How do you think she'll feel about her child's godfathers missing present time because they can't keep it in their pants?"

"We'll be right out!" Harry answered hastily, removing Draco's hand from his person. It was better for everyone involved if Hermione never found out about their (numerous) indiscretions.

"On the double!" Draco added, full of cheek.

"You bet your broomsticks you will," Ron said. "Or else."

Draco raised his eyebrows in mock fright. " _Or else_ ," he mouthed exaggeratedly. Harry kicked him in the shin. The prat snickered.

Harry listened for the telltale crunch of gravel that meant they were well and truly alone before relaxing. That could have gone much worse, he decided. They were lucky it was Ron who found them and not his brother. Though the rest of the Weasleys had warmed up to Draco, George still kept a frosty distance. _But if Ginny could come around,_ he thought optimistically, _there was hope for him yet._

Thus settled, he pushed off the wall, intent to return to the birthday festivities...when Draco pushed him right back to claim a greedy snog and grope. Harry helped when his arse was rudely pinched.

"What are you doing?!" he protested, holding his fiendish husband at arm's length.

"He said we have two minutes," Draco answered, grinning like a fox, before diving for Harry's nethers once again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible," he chided, twisting out of the way.

Draco preened like it was a compliment. "And that's why you love me," he replied smartly.

Damn the man--it was true.

Harry stopped resisting his advances, instead planting a kiss of his own on Draco's collarbone and wrapping a leg around his waist.

Hermione would forgive them. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin!


End file.
